


Ladybugs

by tinkerbird



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Depression, First Love, Gen, Gender Issues, Humanstuck, M/M, Recovery, Self Harm, Unrequited Love, also happy things, blended families - Freeform, expect sad things, self destructive behavior, self discovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:51:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkerbird/pseuds/tinkerbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> “My grandma told me if you catch a ladybug, whenever you set it free, the direction it flies off in is where you’ll meet who you’re gonna marry,”</i> he’d told you. You were about to state your disbelief of the old wives’ tale when the insect flew from his finger and landed directly on your nose.</p><p>Your name is Kankri Vantas, and you have recently reunited with your childhood friend Cronus Ampora...in the mental ward of the hospital where you work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> No but that legend was legit. It's a thing. And I know nothing of social work, please help.

Your first meeting with Cronus Ampora was in the fourth grade. 

You remember that day very clearly; your father announced at breakfast that an old friend of his had invited your family for a visit. Naturally, your younger brother threw a tantrum on the spot, and your mother spent the rest of the morning trying to bribe and/or threaten him into behaving. Your father gave your elder step-sister and you both tired glances, silently begging you to once again be the mature ones of the family and not put up a single fuss. And neither of you did.

You remember your mother making sure that the four of you got ready, just like every morning. And just like every morning, you made sure to remind her that you were ten years old and as such did not need her help. She usually laughed and ruffled your hair, but as she was already exasperated by Karkat’s theatrics, this time she simply sighed. 

“Why don’t you put on that nice sweater Aunt Rosie made you?” she asked, putting a big green bow in your youngest sister Nepeta’s hair.

You wanted to argue, but at that moment Karkat threw his shirt on the floor and started screaming again. 

“ _Karkat Vantas! You put that back on right now!_ ”

You sighed and went back to your room, complying like a good son. Like you always did, without a single complaint. Oh well, it wasn’t like anyone would listen if you did complain for once. Your parents were always (understandably) busy with your younger siblings, leaving you and Meulin, the older children, to yourselves. But it was fine for Meulin. Meulin had friends that paid attention to her. And you? Well… Not so much. You had always been overlooked by your classmates, just like you’d always been overlooked by your family, so friends were somewhat of a rare commodity to you. 

Not that you really minded. You had nothing to compare the loneliness to, so you didn’t know what you were missing out on. However, you admit that you always wished that you had at least one person willing to listen to your thoughts. Just one would do. In fact, you felt as though if or when you ever found that person, you could talk forever without end. But since that person was probably nonexistent, or at very least extremely far away, you would simply stick to silence. Like you always had.

You remember, several of Karkat’s tears and your father’s sighs later, riding for about an hour in the back of your family car. You remember hearing the shrill voices of your younger brother and sister as they played rock-paper scissors and accused each other of cheating every time. You remember your mother telling Nepeta not to hit, and Nepeta doing it anyway until she eventually made Karkat cry. You remember tuning him out, looking out the window, and seeing the beach, and you remember wondering just how far you’d gone from home. 

The Ampora home was without doubt the biggest, fanciest house you’d ever seen. It was almost a mansion, really, and it had a perfect view of the water. You don’t know just how someone managed to build a house of that size on the beach, or for that matter, how they made it stay there, but the result was spectacular.

Mr. Ampora and his wife both made a great deal of money, though you couldn’t for the life of you remember what either of them did for a living. They had four children: two sons from Mr. Ampora’s previous marriage, and two daughters from Mrs. Ampora’s. Their eldest son, according to your father, was your age. But despite what your father thought, you knew that the two of you would _not_ be friends. It was a universal fact that no one your age, excluding Meulin and your cousin, had ever paid a single gram of attention to you, in a positive _or_ negative light. You were somehow invisible to every single one of them, no matter what you did.

Eridan was four, and Vriska a year younger, making them Karkat and Nepeta’s ages, respectively. Eridan was slightly smaller and much, much shyer than his stepsister, his eyes hidden in a mop of white-blond hair, his face in the back of an oversized plush fish. Vriska is just the opposite: loud, outspoken, lively. She also can’t seem to go five minutes without biting or kicking her stepbrother, much to the exasperation of her sister.

Aranea, the older sister, was your age. She seemed very nice... However, within seconds of her introduction, she had already swept Meulin off to her room to hear a story involving her recent trip to Japan with Mrs. Ampora. As expected, neither of them gave you a second thought.

Mrs. Ampora called for someone upstairs, got frustrated when she received no reply, and stormed up to retrieve the person herself. She came back with a sulking boy around your age, who you assumed was the much-awaited elder son.

Cronus Ampora looked considerably more like his father than Eridan did, with his sable hair and thin features. The boy was taller than you, if only by a few mere inches, but he was skin and bone, with piercing grey eyes. Unlike you, who had been forced into dressing up for this occasion, Cronus wore a simple t shirt and what you presumed to be athletic shorts. You were a bit jealous, yes, but it _was_ his house.

Mrs. Ampora let out a frustrated sigh. “I told him at least eight times to change into something decent.”

Cronus just glared at her resentfully from the corner of his eye, as though his stepmother had personally offended him on some deep level just by dragging him out of his room. This lasted only a few moments, however, before his attention turned to you instead.

It wasn’t long before he was dragging you out to play on the beach, and if only for one night, you had someone willing to listen.

The two of you sat together on the sand, watching the waves crash just inches away from your toes after an eventful evening of sandcrab-catching. You remember watching one of many ladybugs make its way to Cronus, landing on his foot. He picked it up on one finger and brought it closer to your line of sight.

_“My grandma told me if you catch a ladybug, whenever you set it free, the direction it flies off in is where you’ll meet who you’re gonna marry,”_ he’d told you. You were about to state your disbelief of the old wives’ tale when the insect flew from his finger and landed directly on your nose.

You panicked, even as Cronus reminded you that it was only a harmless ladybug, because you remember Meulin telling you that they sometimes bite. The marriage story was never brought up again.

-

Your second meeting with Cronus Ampora was in your sophomore year of high school. He transferred to public school after his parents’ divorce. “So that he and is brother could keep in touch with their ex-sisters”, claimed their parents. Truthfully though, it was most likely because of some legal arrangement that was kept secret from the children.

It took you by surprise--shock, even—seeing him after so many years. You almost didn’t recognize him. But despite the fact that he’d grown a lot taller, Cronus was still the same as he’d been when you first met: just _Cronus_. And really, there was never any better way to describe the boy. Cronus was friendlier than most people were comfortable with (including you, but you never really had the heart to tell him so). He was a bit overdramatic at times, and he had the bad habit of hiding (or simply changing altogether) aspects of himself in a desperate attempt to get people to like him. You always knew that one day, that behavior would get him into serious trouble.

But what Cronus Ampora lacked in social skills, he made up for in... Well, it’s hard to put into words. It always has been. On the surface, there was nothing redeemable about your friend’s personality whatsoever. To anyone but you, Cronus Ampora was a waste of space, a loser, a poor excuse for a human being. And they may have been right.

However, you knew better. You knew for a fact that they were wrong, because you saw the side of Cronus that none of them ever did. The Cronus that actually listened to you when the world was too busy to notice your existence, the Cronus that went out of his way to make you smile, the Cronus that secretly felt devastated with every insult that he supposedly brushed off. Contrary to popular belief, he had feelings. A lot of them, actually, and they were very easily hurt. That’s partially why he built the façade of a useless creep: he was terrified of being seen as he was, and being hurt for it. 

You believed in Cronus Ampora, even when no one else did. He was your best friend for the rest of your high school career. Sadly, though, like a lot of friendships, yours sort of faded away. You remember arguing for a brief while, but it’s still unclear to you whether that was the last interaction the two of you’d had or not. Honestly, you’re more concerned with what Cronus is doing now, and if it would be socially acceptable to contact him after all these years. 

Probably not. 

You’ve gotten a social work job with a local hospital. It’s somewhat stressful and even emotionally draining at times, but it pays the bills. You also can’t say that you don’t enjoy the thought of helping mankind, even in the slightest of ways... Karkat tells you this makes you sound like a self-centered—pardon the language, you’re simply using his exact words—fucksponge. 

You wonder what Cronus is doing these days. You wonder if his musical talent was ever noticed, or if he found an even more profound skill in these eight or so years that had somehow gone unnoticed before. You wonder if he’s doing all right (but you promise yourself he is, for your sake). You wonder if he wonders these things about you, or if he even remembers you.

You hope he does, but then again… It’s been _years_.

You continue to think about Cronus as you go to meet a new client. You will have to apologize to this individual later for being so distracted, because for some reason, you can’t seem to keep your mind clear today. In fact, you’ve been so caught up in your own thoughts that you haven’t even bothered to learn this person’s name... Oh well. You will in a moment.

You open the door to a very… _familiar_ …face…

A tall, thin man with sable hair and piercing grey eyes.

Your third meeting with Cronus Ampora is right this very moment.


	2. Ampora, C.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever and also Mike knows literally nothing about how being an adult works when I in fact technically am one.... That's actually terrifying, let me just freak out for a sec

You have to catch your breath for a moment; the surprise of seeing him again so unexpectedly knocked the air out of your lungs. Eventually, the shock subsides enough you to clumsily grope about your mind in search of something to say, as if you’d dropped them after an unforeseen fall. You pick up a few words like scattered papers, but really the only thing that comes to you in time is his name.

“Cronus…” You try to steady your voice, make it seem more like a casual greeting than a startled gasp, but your astonishment betrays you and it comes out in a squeak. You clear your throat and attempt to start again, but Cronus beats you to it.

“Kan?” He looks at you, a grin slowly creeping onto his face. “Kankri Vantas. Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch. How long’s it been? Seven, eight years, at least?”

“Yes.” You straighten your collar and sit down across from him. “I certainly wasn’t expecting to cross paths with you here.”

“I could say the same to you, chief.”

The years have _not_ been kind to your friend. While Cronus may not have changed too drastically in his appearance, something in his face, his voice, the way that he carries himself now gives the overall impression of a man who has seen better days. His eyes once shone with enthusiasm with each word that he spoke, but now? Now those same eyes are dull. Dull with resignation, perhaps? Or dull because they have seen too much?

Then it hits you. He looks _tired_. Tired of whatever circumstances brought him to require your services. Tired of life in general, perhaps. And this… concerns you.

You realize that you’ve spent too long without saying anything, so again, you fish for words. Perhaps now would be a good time to do your job? Save the catching up for later. “I apologize for being so succinct, Cronus, but I must ask that we save our personal talk for another time. Perhaps after this meeting? Now, I’m not implying in any way that I—”

Then he laughs. Something tells you he hasn’t done so in awhile, and so you stop, not wishing to interrupt. “No, no, I get it. Look at you, Kanny boy, so _professional_. There’s a smile on his face now: that amused, genuine one that he always wore around you. Not the smug, fake one displayed to nearly everyone else, but a genuine Cronus Ampora smile. You missed it. 

“I fail to see what’s so amusing about that,” you insist with a slight shrug.

Cronus laughs again, but not for very long. He holds up a hand, waving it dismissively. “Never mind, it’s cool. You just do whatever it is you do. I won’t say anything again, I swear.”

“Cronus—”

“Seriously, psychoanalyze me, write on your little notepad, whatever. Do your _worst_.”

Oh god. Did he just…?

He did. He did indeed just.

He just winked at you. Oh _god_. You sigh. Well, at least _that_ part of Cronus hasn’t changed. 

“Let’s begin by examining the exact reason behind your admission.” The words leave you with a sick sense of dread in the very pit of your stomach. You don’t want to know the answer, but your current assignment requires that you do just that. Why _would_ Cronus end up in the hospital, and in this particular branch, for that matter? The possibilities are nearly endless, and none of them are pleasant.

However, to your surprise, he simply shrugs. 

“A shrug is _not_ an answer, Cronus Ampora.”

Cronus sighs. “Honestly? I’m still trying to figure it out myself, Kan. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Ah, yes, of course. Denial. You see it almost every day; a common side effect of most addictions and mental problems, both of which happen to be your areas of specialty. “Why, then, are you here?” you ask, quickly adding, “After all, I know very little about your current situation and, more importantly, how to handle it.”

“There _is_ no ‘current situation’. Got it?” He seems defensive now. “Aranea’s the only reason I’m here in the first place.”

“Did she convince you to come here?” 

Cronus rolls his eyes. “Convince, my ass. She’s keeping my share of dad’s money ‘til she sees fit, whenever the fuck that is.”

“Language, Cronus.”

“Right. Sorry.” He lets out another sigh. “Anyway, I didn’t think she could do that, so I called her out on it. But apparently over the course of our parents’ three tragic attempts at marriage, dad named her distributor. Or some shit like that. Apparently, he couldn’t trust her ma to keep her greedy mitts off me and Eridan’s money, but either way, I’m fucked.” A pause. “Sorry, language. Forgot. Well, whatever. At least they weren’t together when he finally kicked off. There’d _be_ nothing left for us to fight over by the time that old hag was through.”

You weren’t aware that Mr. Ampora had died. Or that he and the former Mrs. Ampora had ever gotten back together. The things a person can miss in eight years… “What was this argument about?” you ask.

Cronus shrugs. “Damned if I know, chief. It’s like _One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest_ , and I’m McMurphy.”

“Cronus. Now I don’t mean to refute your opinion, but I highly doubt that medical professionals would have admitted you had they not seen a good reason to do so.”

“Kankri, I don’t mean to refute _your_ opinion, but… Actually, yeah. I do. You’re wrong.”

You shrug. “All right, I respect your decision not to share this information with me. However, if I don’t find out one way or another, I _will_ be forced to hand your case over to someone else. Someone who, most likely, will _not_ ask these things nicely, as I have. Unless of course, I haven’t been asking nicely, in which case you are more than welcome to tell me so that—”

“Jesus Christ, Kan,” he interrupts, exasperated. “Can’t you find a file or something on it? I mean, don’t you have access to all that—”

“ _Language._ ”

“ _Stuff_ , Kankri. Can’t you just look it up yourself?”

“Are you having a hard time admitting your struggles out loud?”

He shrugs. “Not to anyone but you.”

You frown, more than slightly taken aback by that statement. “Should I be offended? After all, we’ve known each other for years, and if I’m not mistaken, we were once extremely close.”

“That’s why.” Cronus lets his head fall back against the wall behind him, pausing before he speaks again. He lets out yet another long sigh as he sits up and faces you again. “This was something I’d rather have kept hidden from you, Kan. Especially since it’s been so long.” He lets his face fall into his hands. “I just… I hate you have to find out about all this.”

And that was it. That was your signal that things were somehow at least sixty times worse than you’d originally thought they’d be. Because despite how many people called him “attention-seeking” (and also despite the number of times they happened to be right), Cronus Ampora never advertises his real problems. Oh sure, from time to time he may exaggerate certain issues or on rare occasions simply make them up for the sake of attention. But when something really bothers him, when something gets out of hand and he actually _needs_ attention for once… Well, as seen here, getting him to open up about it is a very difficult and frustrating task. In fact, if a matter is severe enough, he more than likely will get angry if a conversation turns toward its direction.

Which is why you’ve chosen not to press him any further and simply look through his patient records like he requested. “All right.”

“…Really?”

“Yes.” 

Breaking the so-called “touch barrier” has always been a very awkward thing for you; however, sometimes doing so is necessary. Like right now, for example. You lean forward and lightly place a hand on your friend’s shoulder.

“Cronus, please understand that I am only doing my job and that this will not affect my opinion of you in any way.”

“Yeah, no, I get it. It’s fine.”

“I also hope that this experience hasn’t affected your opinion of me. And I’ll be getting in touch with you soon for more personal reasons.”

His smile returns, though not quite at full-force. “I’ll be holding you to that, tiger.”

 

-

 

Several hours later, you sit in your office with a yellow folder. A simple, unassuming yellow folder that holds the answers to the questions that have been plaguing your mind since this morning. You have to open it. But do you want to? 

Yes.

No. Acually no, no you don’t. You’re afraid to open it. There are all sorts of things that your old friend could have been institutionalized for, and none of them are anything you’d want to imagine him struggling with.

You’ll open it, but you decide to clear your mind first by getting a few other things done. Looking through ads for roommates is one of those things. Yes, as much as you shudder at the thought of living with a complete stranger, you’ve decided that financially, you have no other choice. Well, you do, but you aren’t about to move to a different apartment just because the rent went up again.

Or are you? No one has met your (high) standards so far, and quite honestly, you’re about ready to give up the search and start looking for somewhere else to live instead. You sigh. So much for “clearing your mind”.

You pick up the folder again. It feels heavy in your hands… The thought of the person you’d spent all that time with, stayed up late with talking about nothing much at all, caught countless sandcrabs and fireflies with, who was once your _best friend _, in this situation… This case is too personal for you to deal with professionally. You will apologize to Cronus later, but you sadly will have to pass it on to someone else.__

__Before you do that, however, you’re going to find out exactly what’s going on._ _

___Ampora, C.__ _

___Possible histrionic personality disorder_ _ _

___Alcoholism_ _ _

___Long history of addiction to painkillers_ _ _

___Depression_ _ _

___Self-harming behavior_ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when I write Cronkri I feel like it goes like this:  
> "chiefchiefchiefchiefchiefchief*greaser noises* *occasional ass grab*"  
> "cronus stahp im trigger *lots of big words*"
> 
> so....yeah


	3. He Hates Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws this through ur window and drives away*

While you’ve had to abandon Cronus as a client for the sake of professionalism, you’ve made it a point to see him at least once a day. Out of pity? No, certainly not anything like that. You’re just thrilled to know where he is for once, and you’d really like to do as much catching up as you can before he disappears again. That is, if he _does_ disappear again…

Who are you kidding? Cronus always hated this town with a passion. As much as you’d like for him to, he isn’t about to stay forever, and you wouldn’t dream of asking him to. However, you aren’t about to lose touch with him for eight more years.

“Was Meenah here earlier?” you ask, shutting the door behind you. “She passed me in the hallway as I was headed to your room.”

Cronus shrugs. “Maybe she was here, maybe she wasn’t.” He’s hiding something, and you have a good idea of what it is. You sigh.

“Cronus, please, can’t you at least try to go a day without giving unwanted attention to the nurses?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“One day, Cronus. That’s all I ask.”

He laughs. “I said I’ll think about it, chief. What more do you want from me?”

You take your usual place in a nearby chair, offering your friend the coffee you brought for him. This entire setup would feel awkward and forced to anyone else, but oddly enough the two of you seem to be doing just fine so far. It doesn’t _feel_ as though you’re ignoring the massive presence of a metaphoric elephant at the very center of the small room. It doesn’t even feel like you’ve been apart for as long as you have. In fact, if you weren’t so sure that you were inside a hospital, you would swear that time somehow gone backwards and you were both back in one of your bedrooms after school. 

“I’ll apologize up front for the brevity of today’s visit,” you say, glancing out the window. “I was going to make sure that Meulin’s taken care of.”

“Oh yeah. How’s she doing, by the way?”

You sigh. “About as well as one can after losing a sense.”

Your step sister was involved in a car accident earlier this year and was in a coma for almost a month. She was lucky to have lived at all. Meulin fortunately suffered no other permanent damage other than the complete loss of her hearing; the doctors say it will never return.

However, as hard as the ordeal was for her, it was downright devastating to her fiancé. He had been the one driving, and he understandably yet wrongfully blamed himself for what had happened. And even though he’d stayed at Meulin’s side for the whole long month, the guilt was apparently too much for him to take once she woke up. Now he’s doing his best to avoid her.

Wanting to do such a thing is understandable, but actually doing it is quite another matter. You aren’t the sort of person to judge others for their choices, but as Meulin’s brother, you have to say that these actions (or lack thereof) were more than a little despicable. Honestly, he could have at least tried to talk everything through.

Or.

Actually, no. No, he couldn’t. Meulin’s fiancé is mute. Well… The idea is the same.

You’re almost one hundred percent certain that Cronus doesn’t want to hear about Meulin’s fiancé. Or at least, doesn’t need to. The two of them have met, and they apparently haven’t had the best of times with each other. The last thing you need is to get Cronus started on his negative opinions toward someone you yourself barely know and thus would have little to say about.

“How’s everybody else?”

“Mother’s having the most difficult time adjusting to Meulin’s... newfound disability.” You let out a sigh. “You know how she can be. A lioness who happens to be just a _bit_ too protective of her cubs.”

“Yeah. Good ol’ Mrs. V.”

You raise an eyebrow, letting the faintest hint of a smirk creep over your face. “If I recall correctly, Cronus, you were the bane of her existence. She threatened to call your father at least once per visit, and… What was it she called you? ‘Hellspawn’?”

“Hey, can you blame her? I always made some kind of mess every time I came over.”

“She secretly loved you, though,” you tell him. “You were her favorite out of all of our friends.”

Cronus grins.“Liar.”

You shrug. “All right, she _may_ have preferred Horuss to you. But him and _only_ him.”

“Well how can I compete with the perfect example of humanity that is Horuss Zahhak?” he replies jokingly. “How’s Nep?”

“A darling, as usual. Karkat, on the other hand, continues to be somewhat of a problem child. He’s announced that he’s taking a year off from school, and while I suppose that as he’s now a legal adult it technically is his choice, the decision is causing mother and our aunt to, well… both take an Olympic dive directly off the deep end.”

There’s a long pause before Cronus speaks again. “Hey, I meant to ask you earlier… Does he still hang around Eridan?”

You give him a slight shrug in reply. “I wouldn’t know. Our conversations usually only consist of the occasional argument and Karkat’s unnecessarily loud negations of everything I say… But such is brotherhood. I’m sure you and Eridan encounter the same problems.”

He gives you a half-hearted laugh. “You could say that… Actually, we’ve only had one fight since I’ve been back in town.”

“That’s good to hear,” you tell him.

“Uh. Yeah…” You catch the hesitation in his voice, and in that moment, you have an idea of what’s causing it.

“Cronus.”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t spoken to him since, have you?”

Another sad, forced laugh. “Was it really that easy to figure out?”

You sigh. “What happened?”

Cronus shrugs. “He hates me now. And, really, I don’t blame him.” He leans forward and puts his face in his hands. “I mean, I walked out on the kid. Left him alone with our dad, no one to help him deal with the old man’s bullshit… Goddamn, that can fuck a kid up, and I’m living proof.”

It was never any secret to you that Mr. Ampora was an oppressively strict parent. The expectations that he set for his boys were unreasonable beyond belief; the level of perfection that the man demanded was unattainable. But failing to excel in _every_ area was unacceptable, and you strongly believe that the pressure to succeed eventually broke Cronus. 

“You were eighteen,” you remind him. “You were going to have to leave him eventually.”

“Yeah, I know that, but I could’ve at least stuck around to see him graduate.”

“Six years, Cronus? You hated this town.”

“Not so much anymore, I guess… I’m indifferent to it now, if anything. Maybe if…” He sighs. “I dunno. Too bad I fucked up the only second chance I’m ever gonna have.”

“And what exactly _did_ you do?” you ask. “Of course, unless you’d rather not discuss it. In which case, I’m more than willing to respect your boundaries and refrain from bringing it up again.”

Cronus is silent for awhile, and you begin to think that you’ve upset him somehow simply by asking the question. But then, tentatively, he begins to speak. “I didn’t wanna go to dad’s funeral. Fuck, Kan, you know I hated him. It felt like somehow, he’d be judging me from beyond the grave…he’d find a way, Kan.”

“If it caused you that much stress, why did you go?”

He shrugs. “I ran out of money. Figured I’d get my inheritance, maybe see Eridan and Vriska, then get the hell out of there as fast as I could. I thought I could handle it, but right before the funeral, I…”

You patiently wait for him to finish. 

“I got…” Cronus sighs. “I got drunk. I’m not talking a little drunk, either. I mean, I’m surprised I could stand up long enough to fuck everything up the way I did. Especially with Eridan. Long story short, I uh…said some things I’m not the proudest of.”

“Like what?” you ask.

“…I made a pass at him.”

“ _Cronus!_ ” You weren’t going to judge (and still aren’t, really), and pardon your language, but _god **damn**_.

“I know, I know… I was drunk, I had no idea who he was. When I left, he was just a _kid_ , I never even thought about…” He runs a hand through his hair. “So. Yeah. He hates me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t.”

“I’m pretty sure he does.”

You shrug. “He might. But… At least I don’t.”

“One day,” Cronus promises resignedly. “Everybody does sooner of later.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I hope that this I’m not assuming too much by making this statement, Cronus, but I highly doubt that I will grow to hate you any time in the foreseeable future.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Is that a challenge?”

“You know it isn’t. But the idea is the same.”

Cronus just smirks, shaking his head as if what you’d just said was some unknown inside joke. “Whatever you say, chief.”


	4. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So tired and sad.... *eats chicken nugger*

Cronus is released today. You’d like to say that you’re surprised about just how brief his stay in the institution was, and to be perfectly honest, you are. Surprised that the so-called professionals would ever let someone so obviously not recovered out of their care. (Then again, after working with them for so long, you really should have expected this, as it’s not the first time that something like this has happened.)

You don’t mean it in a bad way. Certainly not. But it’s very obvious to you just from speaking to your friend that contrary to what he or his medical chart says, he still hates himself. Well, at least he’s sworn off drinking after what happened at his father’s funeral. It’s a start, but… You still can’t help but worry. 

You also can’t help but wonder what Cronus did in all those years. It’s prying, nosy, a direct violation of your friend’s personal space, _yes_ , but occasionally you’ll bring it up in conversation. Not directly, of course. Just casually, innocently mentioning something that you yourself did in the past eight years, and then asking if anything similar occurred in Cronus’s life in that period. Usually, he’ll answer no, because the thing in question honestly didn’t apply to him. But when it does, he still never answers in detail. He limits himself to one-sentence replies, and he changes the subject when you try to make a conversation out of it.

Every now and then, you _will_ ask him about his past directly. Every time, Cronus tells you that he’d prefer not to speak about those years, and every time, he says “those years” in the same tone of voice as war veterans use when saying “the war”. This leads you to believe that that time, for him, was exactly that: a war. 

At the end of the day, though, you can’t spend all of your energy dwelling on your soul-crushing worriment over your friend. You have personal matters to attend to, such as meeting with a potential roommate this evening. After months of waiting and searching through other people’s ads, someone finally responded to _yours_ for a change. 

Hopefully, this one will be better than the last ones…but you doubt it.

-

You receive one of the biggest shocks of your life when you actually _do_ meet your potential roommate face-to-face. The person isn’t threatening, or really anything like that… Just surprisingly familiar. 

“We have _got_ to stop meeting like this, Kan.”

A quiet laugh slips its way out of you. “I agree. Although, I admit, this isn’t exactly an unpleasant surprise.”

And you mean that. You’re actually relieved that the person turned out to be Cronus. You’d taken a risk by putting out the ad in the first place, but hopefully this means your search is over.

“So, uh…” he starts, tentatively. “Any objections to me living here?”

“None that I can see.” 

“I mean, if you—”

“Cronus Ampora,” you interrupt firmly. “You are staying here, and I will not take no for an answer.”

 

-

Some of the things Cronus does in private are so hopelessly endearing that they honestly surprise you. Like today, when he stumbles across the balcony for the first time.

“We have one of these?” he asks with genuine excitement. God, it’s like he’s twelve years old, and it’s adorable. 

“Yes, Cronus.” You feel like an exasperated parent answering his child. “Didn’t you notice that when you moved in two weeks ago?”

Cronus shrugs. “Not my fault you keep the blinds closed. I thought it was just a big window.”

“A window that goes to the floor?”

“Hey, hey, don’t judge me.” He laughs, looking out the sliding glass door with determination. “I’m sleeping out there tonight.”

“Outside?”

“You know it.”

“…Alone?”

“Kan, we’re three stories off the ground. Are you worried about me getting abducted by aliens?” An almost infuriating smirk spreads across his face. “Oh, I get it. You want in on the outdoor sleepover action too, huh? Y’know, you coulda just asked.”

You frown. “Why would I voluntarily sleep outside?”

“Uh, ‘cause it’s awesome, maybe?” Cronus grins. “C’mon, lighten up. When’s the last time you did anything like this?”

You start to answer, but he just looks so eager and precious, and he _really_ needs to stop, because it’s _ruining your life and causing your chest to tighten painfully_ , and…

And somehow, you ended up outside at ten o’clock at night in a sleeping bag.

“Whoa, look at all the stars,” Cronus remarks dreamily. “Almost forgot what they looked like.”

“Did you?” you ask, secretly hoping that it encourages him to speak more.

“Yeah.” He sighs. “This town’s a lot smaller than I remember. I’ve gotten used to cities so big you can’t see anything at night but black.”

“If you don’t mind my asking… How far away have you been, exactly?”

He shrugs. “Not too far, really. A few hours, tops. Wanted to go farther, but… I guess I didn’t know what that meant, at the time.”

You nod, but you don’t say anything, for fear that even the slightest interruption will make him stop.

“I didn’t know how hard it’d be. Then again, who does?” Cronus lets out a short, humorless laugh. “I mean, when you’re eighteen, starting out, you’re still just a kid. You don’t know shit about the world or how it works. You’re just aimlessly chasing your dreams, like the coyote and the roadrunner. And before you even figure out just how hopeless it all is, you’re stuck in a life you never wanted with no way out.”

“You’re out now, aren’t you?” 

He shakes his head. “Nah, chief. You don’t get it. I’m always gonna remember it. And even if I didn’t, it’s eight years of my life I’ll never get back.” He sighs. “Not sure I’d do anything useful with them if I did.”

“Cronus—”

“I mean it, Kan. You don’t understand.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What exactly don’t I understand?”

“I…did some things,” he admits. “I got pretty acquainted with the streets, in every way possible.”

“If it means anything, I’m proud of you,” you tell him honestly.

“For what?”

“You survived that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” He snorts. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t.”

That shocks you a bit. Not the statement itself, given Cronus’s history, but the flippancy of it. Like such an idea had become second-nature to him, so casual a remark that it meant nothing, like it was small-talk. You don’t speak again for what feels like an hour.

When you finally do, your voice is soft. “Could I have done anything to stop you from going?”

“I don’t think a direct message from God woulda stopped me, at that point.” 

You nod slowly.

“But, uh, just so you know…” He coughs a bit. “I probably woulda given it a good deal of consideration, if it came from you.”

“Thank you, Cronus. I appreciate the fact that you value my opinion, even in a hypothetical situation.”

Cronus looks genuinely confused. “Of course I value your opinion, in any situation! I mean… You’re smarter than everyone thinks you are, Kan.”

“You should tell them that,” you suggest jokingly. “It would certainly help my case.”

“Yeah.” 

With that, your lips meet.

And for the first time in your life, you are at a loss for words. 

Of course, your first instinct is to push him away. Your work comes first, and you swore not to get romantically, physically, or sexually involved, and you know that you will never, ever be what he or anyone else needs in a partner, and on top of that this is your closest childhood friend and…

And you don’t really care right now. Oh sure, you’ll have your regrets in the morning, when you try and make sense of what happened. But for now, you just grab him by the collar and kiss the life out of him like it’s the only thing keeping you sane.


	5. Démenti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't romance......

It’s been three days, and you’ve done your best to avoid bringing up the events of that night. In fact, you’ve been trying to convince yourself it never happened at all. You never kissed Cronus. You never continued kissing him for two straight hours, nor did you fall asleep during said imaginary affair. And you certainly did _not_ wake up in his arms the following morning like some ridiculous, lovestruck fool.

You’re lying to yourself, and you know it. Avoidance solves nothing, you should know that… But you hate what Cronus does to you. What he’s always done to you, if you’re being honest with yourself. You hate that you’re much more content when he’s around. You hate all his charming little quirks, how he always gladly listens to you, those absurd candy cigarettes he always insists on carrying around like a child… But what you hate most of all is the fact that you _can’t stop thinking about him_.

You never asked for this. You’ve always been terrified by the idea of less-than-platonic relationships, so you avoided dating like the plague. It had been working relatively well so far (partially because no one had shown interest, but that is entirely beside the point). Yes, true, you _have_ had… _feelings_ … towards others in the past, especially in your youth. But you’ve done an excellent job with controlling them so far.

Until now, that is.

You’re probably making a huge mistake, but your mind won’t leave you alone until you do something you’re completely sure that your seventeen-year-old self wouldn’t approve of. So the instant Cronus’s hand is within your reach, you carefully, gently grab onto it. This is the first time you’ve even considered doing such a thing since you were a very young child, and your father insisted you hold his or your mother’s hand when crossing the street. So naturally, you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing. Cronus just smiles, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as it trembles and sweats in his grip.

Usually you try to avoid physical contact as much as possible, mostly because the act makes you rather uncomfortable for reasons you can’t really place. So you hope that Cronus recognizes that fact and appreciates just how much this simple gesture was meant to mean. 

He does, if the light kiss he places your forehead is any indication.

 

-

Everything goes smoothly from there, much to your amazement. You somehow expected the entire world to come crashing down the day that you, Kankri Vantas, ended your lifelong status of singularity, but it didn’t. No satellites fell from the sky. No tsunami wiped out the western half of the United States. The undead did not rise from their graves the instant the word “yes” fell from your lips, and no nuclear weapons were dropped on any continent. The only earth-shattering change that came about due to your newfound relationship with Cronus has been that your heart palpitates to the point of near-painfulness whenever you’re in the same room. Because you _know_ that he’s going to kiss you, cuddle you, or do something of that nature, and that you can do nothing to stop him.

Because you know that you’re going to like it.

You’re still getting used to it of course, all the touching. But you’d be a damned liar if you said that at least some small part of you didn’t enjoy it. The contact relaxes you in ways you never expected, so you let it continue.

It occurs to you that you have no idea what you’re doing, _dating_ , but you’re trying your best…which, honestly, isn’t very good at all. Luckily, however, Cronus is more than willing to initiate romantic progression, even though you feel guilty for making him do most of the work. This shouldn’t be so one-sided; that much you know, at least. But you haven’t got a single clue on how to change it.

Slowly, though, everything begins to feel natural. Holding hands, kissing, even the ridiculous pet names he insists on using. Months pass. There comes a time when you realize that you don’t know how you’d survive losing him, and that scares you. The thought of needing someone so much is terrifying... So terrifying that you refuse to dwell on it, or even acknowledge the feeling as valid. 

You realize that you haven’t prompted a single thing past hand-holding. You haven’t even said anything to suggest that your feelings towards him were sincere, and in fact, you’ve been unfairly distant. You know that he’ll leave one day, and perhaps it’s for the best. You were never meant for this sort of thing from the start, no matter how much he means to you.

It isn’t until one night that you finally see just how much that _is _.__

__He isn’t feeling his best, though you doubt that anyone but you would notice. He’s dead silent; that alone is an alarming change, as even on his worst days he can’t help but complain about just how bad everything was. Something’s wrong._ _

__You reach out and take his hand. He flinches in your grip, but you disregard his personal space just this once, giving the back of it a gentle kiss. He freezes, but you don’t let go, lightly pressing your cheek to the side of his palm._ _

__And it’s there, out of the corner of your eye, that you notice them. The marks. Some of them look brand-new… And that both frightens and hurts you in ways that you couldn’t begin to explain. Your breath stops, your chest tightens, and you are rendered speechless._ _

__Strange, isn’t it? How he and only he can take the words from your lips when so many others have tried so desperately to do the same. Ironic that it should be him that silences you, when he was the only one who ever truly listened._ _

__From the start, he listened, when no one else so much as noticed your existence. It was him that gave you the courage to begin speaking for yourself; his interest fueled your passionate lectures and gave your voice the volume and clarity to pervade a crowd. But from the very beginning, from your brief meeting in your childhood, to this very instant, he has always been the only one to actually _hear_ you. Also from the very beginning to this very instant, you loved him, yet you were so deeply in denial that you never said a word. Especially not to yourself._ _

__You were a fool. A selfish fool, and if you lose him now, you’re certain that you will fall apart._ _

__He doesn’t know that you’ve noticed them; if he does, he makes no effort to pull his hand away. Good. You know that you’ll have to confront him eventually, but not now. You’re both much too tired. So you stand up and wordlessly lead him to your bedroom door._ _

__“Would you like to share my bed tonight?” you ask, before you, blushing, add, “We would only be sleeping.”_ _

__“I know.” He gives you the faintest, yet most genuine of smiles. “Sounds great.”_ _

__With that, you gently pull him inside and onto the bed, draping a sheet around the two of you as he presses his face into your shoulder. You spend the entire night holding him to your chest, stroking his hair, and praying to any god that will listen that no matter how much coldness you show him, no matter what you do to alienate or hurt him that he will never, _ever_ leave you._ _


	6. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never write with dumb fanart nearby never write with dumb fanart nearby never wRITE WITH DUMB FANART NEARBY

Karkat comes over for a short while on Saturday. He says that he’s visiting, but you doubt it; your brother never comes within a five-mile radius of you of his own volition unless he wants something. You ask him why he’s _really_ here.

“What?” Karkat says, seemingly _greatly_ offended. “I’m suddenly not allowed to visit my shitty older brother? Okay, well in that case, I’ll just go home.” With that, he slowly starts for the door, not really intending to leave but more for dramatic effect.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh no, you’ve made it perfectly fucking clear that I’m not wanted here. I’ll just—”

“Karkat, I apologize for making such unwarranted accusations against you. Now, will you please step away from the door?”

He does as you ask, but not without a very spiteful glare aimed in your direction. You sigh. What could you possibly have done to deserve such a troublesome younger sibling?

Karkat brought someone with him—not an unusual action, honestly; the boy has more friends than he probably appreciates, and it is certainly within the norm for one or more of them to be around him at any given time… Sometimes to Karkat’s annoyance. Today, though, he seems to be perfectly content in the company of this stranger, and it occurs to you that he may have even invited him along.

The other male is thin and angular, taller than Karkat but not quite as tall as you. His ash blond hair is streaked with violet, and behind his thick glasses is a face that you have _definitely_ seen before. Your mind struggles to recall why this person looks so familiar... You’ve met a great number of Karkat’s friends, but somehow this one is different… You recognize him from somewhere else. And if not him, someone with very, very similar features. Someone with the same clear, gray eyes.

That’s when you finally realize that you are in the presence of Eridan Ampora.

When you last saw him, he was around twelve or thirteen: just a child, really. The Eridan that you remember is the small, socially inept creature that occasionally spent the night at your house and got into screaming matches with your brother over who got the top bunk. That Eridan has _nothing_ in common with the person before you. It’s no wonder that his own brother didn’t recognize him after all those years.

You don’t want Cronus to be home while Eridan is here, as you have no idea how either of them will handle the unexpected reunion. However, you know for a fact that Cronus is, as of this moment, still upstairs in bed. You hope he stays that way until your respective brothers leave.

But of course, he doesn’t. 

Your breath halts the second their eyes meet. All is silent, the tension in the air almost visible. 

“Oh… Hey, chief.”

Eridan responds with only a short, bitter glare before averting his gaze. He says nothing and instead chooses to ignore Cronus’s presence, distaste still evident in his features despite his efforts to seem unaffected. Cronus’s expression doesn’t change, but you see it in his eyes. Defeat. You have the urge to reach out and comfort him, but before you can even extend your hand, he’s already wandered off to some other part of the apartment. You start to go after him, but… You’ll at least wait until Karkat and Eridan are gone. And you have a feeling that it won’t be very long; Karkat never stays for over a few minutes at a time, and with this newfound awkwardness, he has more of an excuse to leave than he usually does.

You’re right, of course, and immediately following their departure, you go to look for Cronus. He’s out on the balcony, staring blankly at the town below you and leaning on the railing by his elbows. 

“Cronus?” Your voice is soft, wavering. 

He turns and gives you a faint, broken smile. “See? I told you. He hates me.”

“He had no right to—”

“He had _every_ right, Kan.” Cronus sighs deeply, sinking into a nearby chair. “Eight years without so much as a phone call, and then _that_ … I can’t say I blame him.”

You lightly cup his cheek with one hand, wondering briefly when such an act became so _normal_ to you, and you very gently pull his face up to force eye contact. “While I agree that you’ve made quite a few wrong choices, I understand—and _you_ should understand—that you aren’t perfect. You never will be, and neither will anyone else. Making mistakes is a fundamental part of the human experience, Cronus, and if Eridan is even the least reasonable, he will understand and forgive you. If not, _you_ aren’t the problem.” 

Your thumb affectionately strokes the side of his face for a few more moments, before you straighten yourself to standing, lightly kissing the very top of his head on your way. “Why don’t we go inside?”

“Can I have a few more minutes?” 

You nod. “Of course. Would you like for me to stay with you?”

Cronus shrugs. “I mean, if you _want_ …”

In other words, no. “All right… Try not to stay too long. It’s cold out here, and I don’t want you to catch your death.” He mumbles something you can’t quite make out. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” He stands up. “Actually… You’re right. I think I _will_ go inside.” You reach for his hand, but he quickly moves out of the way. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

Why _his_ room? Since late October, the two of you have taken to sharing yours; Cronus’s excuse was that it’s too cold to sleep alone, but you knew better than to fall for that. Then again, you haven’t minded much at all… Between the added warmth and the closeness, you’ve grown quite fond of sharing a bed, though you could never in a million years admit it.

Perhaps he wants to be alone… No. This is Cronus. He _never_ wants to be alone—in fact, that’s possibly his greatest fear. You know then without a shadow of a doubt that whatever he plans to do with his solitude will be detrimental to his own health or safety. You don’t know what he’ll do, exactly, but it worries you. It worries you _immensely_. 

In a panic, you blurt out the only thing that comes to your mind at the moment. “I love you.” You realize that was the first time you’ve said it out loud, and you regret the timing if only a bit.

Cronus stops in his tracks. He turns, kisses you softly, repeats the phrase against your lips, then wanders off. You know that you did something wrong, but you’re too much in shock to care. You told someone that you loved them in a romantic way. And you _meant it_. And he said it back, as if it were obvious, as if it were something he said every day.

Actually… He has. But only now have you bothered to say it back.

Wonderful. You can add this to your list of regrets. But first, you decide to make sure that Cronus is still in one piece.

-

He’s harmed himself. You know this because of the way that he withdraws from your touch, the way that he refuses to look directly at you…and also the small red stain forming on the edge of his sleeve. He tried to hide it from you in a hurry. But you aren’t an idiot.

Your chest tightens with emotions you can’t place, and you suddenly want to do everything in your power to make this right, though you have no idea what that is. It’s a frustrating, helpless feeling, one that you’ve never quite felt before, and that you never hope to feel again. Like just about everything else so far, you won’t confront him directly about this. Even though that may kill him, you simply can’t force yourself to press the issue further than extending your hand and firmly commanding him to give you whatever inflicted these wounds. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I… I don’t have it anymore. I put it away.”

“Get it, then. And when you do, bring it to me.”

“What if I don’t wanna?”

Your eyes narrow as you grab him firmly by the shoulder. “Cronus Ampora, so help me, I will walk directly through the front door and _never look back_.”

“Then go,” he says, challenging you. You stand up, and you see the fear in his eyes as he throws a pocketknife down on the bed. It breaks your heart, and you immediately sit back down, wondering what on earth possessed you to make such a claim in the first place.

You take him into your arms, and he clings to you, shaking, like a frightened child as you soothingly run your fingers through his hair. “Shh, darling, I didn’t mean that… I would never do that to you… Shhh, I should have never said that, I’m sorry…” You knew how much he fears driving you away, yet you chose to use that fear against him. 

“You’re not sorry,” argues Cronus, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I am,” you promise. “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“You didn’t, trust me.” He sighs. “And I mean… You _shouldn’t_ be sorry. You didn’t mean anything by it, so it… It doesn’t matter now.” Your eyes drift to the object on the bed, and Cronus notices. “Just take it. If it’ll make you happy… take it.”

You nod, slipping the knife into your pocket. “I really do love you,” you swear, reaching out and taking his hand for good measure. 

He gives yours a light squeeze. “Love you, too.”

“Then stop doing this.”

 

“Can’t.”

“Why not?” 

“I…” Cronus hesitates. “Later. Okay?”

You nod. “Do you need anything?”

He puts an arm around you, pulling you closer. “Stay with me?”

“Of course.”


	7. Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *writes about winter to distract myself from the heat*

He won’t come inside. Not even to sleep. It is nine o’clock at night in the dead of winter, and he’s still out there on the balcony with nothing on but short sleeves and sweatpants. Has been for roughly three hours now.

This worries you. You’ve been watching him for two straight hours, and if for no other reason but that you feel he may catch a cold, you want him to come inside. So you slide open the door very slowly and approach him carefully, as one would do a wild animal. 

“Cronus?”

You speak softly, but the sudden intrusion of your voice startles him. “Oh. Hey, babe.”

“Do you know what time it is?” you ask, making your way over to him.

Cronus shrugs. “I guess I lost track. Sorry about that.”

You sit down beside him, taking his ice-cold hand in yours. “You’re freezing.”

“Maybe you’re just warm.”

“Come inside.” You kiss his temple. “Please?”

“In a minute.”

“You’ll be sick if you stay out here any longer.” 

He considers this for a moment, then idly shrugs it off. “Then I’ll get sick. So what?”

“Cronus,” you say sternly, as a warning. You get no response, so you sigh, standing up and going inside. Cronus seems just the slightest bit saddened by your sudden absence, but says nothing, instead choosing to return his attention to the night sky. 

You come back seconds later with a blanket and a mug of tea, re-claiming your place beside Cronus. You put the blanket around the two of you and hand the tea to him. 

“Thanks.”

You lightly place a hand on his cheek. “You’re warm. What did I just tell you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he argues. “I feel fine.”

“Cronus Ampora, you are going inside right this very moment if I have to carry you through the door like a stubborn child.”

“Really?” he asks. “Heh, I’d like to see you try.”

You cross your arms, your brow rising with growing impatience. “Is that a challenge?”

“Yeah, actually… Hey, stop! I didn’t mean it!” Cronus laughs, standing up. “Of all the ways to go out, I don’t wanna be dropped off a balcony.”

You roll your eyes. “ _Please_. Even if I dropped you, you would only fall for about three stories. That height would probably only severely injure you, not kill you.”

“Probably? Oh, okay, _that_ makes me feel better.”

“That is, if I dropped you,” you say with a shrug. “I doubt that would happen.”

“You doubt it, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Skin-and-bones, Got-angry-and-gave-up-on-opening-a-coke-bottle—”

“Cronus, that happened one time—”

“—Can-hardly-lift-a-gallon-jug-of-milk Vantas—”

“ _Stop making fun of me_.”

“—thinks he can carry me inside without dropping me over a ledge to my death?”

“ _Cronus, please._ ”

He laughs. “Hey, hey, don’t be mad. C’mere.” You turn around. “No, don’t—Don’t go inside. Come here.” 

You sigh and do as you’re told. Cronus presses a kiss to your lips, but you frown. “Stop that. You might be contagious.”

“I’m not even sick,” he argues with a pout. 

“You have a fever.”

“No I don’t.” He moves forward to kiss you again.

You groan. “Don’t…” 

But you don’t stop him. In fact, you _encourage_ him. That is, until you remember what you came out here to accomplish.

“Cronus… Inside. Now.”

“Do we have to go to bed?”

“…Not with the intent of sleeping.”

You have never seen anyone’s eyes light up this much in your entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to break your hearts, but no they regrettably did not do a sex. *gives the fangirls a bin to hold the shattered remnants of their patience in*


End file.
